


It is a nice dress

by RedChucks



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Discussion of Gender, Gen, Genderqueer Vince, gender bending, mention of Old Gregg, mention of Saboo, questioning Howard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 19:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedChucks/pseuds/RedChucks
Summary: While Vince happily wears the label of Confuser, and whatever clothes he wants, Howard struggles to understand his own needs and feelings.Basically I made them sit down and talk in the aftermath of series three and the topic of the day is gender.





	It is a nice dress

“Are you alright? Howard. Howard?” 

“Hm?”

Howard looked up wearily from where he was slumped on the end of the bed, wishing Vince would go away, wishing he hadn’t just barged in like he always did, wishing he hadn’t just witnessed the depths of Howard’s shame. The fabric beneath his hand shifted oddly as his chest heaved and he waited for the laugh, the chewy-teeth cackle that would be the final nail in the coffin of Howards esteem, but it didn’t come and Howard tried to focus through the tears that were swimming in the corners of his eyes but refusing to fall. Vince was staring at him but he didn’t know what he wanted, or what to say to explain himself.

“Howard?” Vince asked again. “You’re eyes ‘ave gone all weird. Are you okay, Howard?” 

Howard wanted to sit up straight and tall and bluff his way through it, to laugh derisively at the very idea that he wasn’t perfectly fine, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t entirely sure he could move at all in what he was currently wearing, not without humiliating himself even more. The only option left was to try and create enough bluster and indignation over being walked in on until Vince inevitably rolled his eyes and gave up. It would lead to a fight but that was hardly something new and almost to be expected, and even though Howard knew it was likely crack his already broken heart, it was still better than facing up to the situation as it truly was.

“Me sir? I’m fine, sir! Absolutely peachy- No! Not pe- not that! Just fine, sir. I’m Howard Moon! Man of action, man of the world, man of many talents, man of... man...”

“Y’know,” Vince said as he stepped in to the room and shut the door behind him, ducking his head and using that soft, careful voice, the one that Howard hadn’t heard properly in years. “You don’t have to be a man all the time. If it’s a bother. It’s fine. I won’t judge.”

“What?” Howard squawked. He could feel the chokes building, the panic and shame climbing, along with the need to give himself a pinch or a burn to reset his system, but he couldn’t do that in front of Vince. He didn’t want Vince to see just how much of a disappointment he was, what he did to himself. Being caught trying on a dress was bad enough. “How dare you, sir! Howard Moon is a man through and through, a man of substance, a man-“

“Wearing a sparkly dress,” Vince pointed out, not unkindly. Howard looked down at the dress and his bare legs, scrunching the sequinned fabric tighter in his fist where he held it against his chest. He felt the bed dip as Vince sat down beside him but didn’t look up. Even when Vince tried his old trick, ducking his head and looking up at Howard through his long pretty hair, and long, even prettier, lashes, Howard refused to budge. “Come on, Howard. I won’t take the piss, promise.” He paused. “It’s a nice dress.”

Vince was right about that of course, it was a very nice dress. Blue, red, and black sequins, relatively giving fabric, though not stretchy enough for Howard’s frame, apparently. He never should have tried to put it on, but it had just been there, hanging in his wardrobe like it belonged, and it had been a long day. It had been a long month, if he was honest, and the journey from Denmark back to England had left him drained and disheartened. He’d half expected to find his room empty and his belongings thrown away, but instead everything was just as he’d left it, except for the dress. 

It was funny really, in a completely unfunny way, because he’s spent so many nights dreaming of this dress, having nightmares of the moment he unzipped it and the beautiful woman he’d been ready to lose his virginity to turned suddenly in to the half man half fish monster known as Old Gregg. In the nightmares all manner of terrible things happened, but in real life Naboo and half the shaman council had burst in to save him (though not his dignity) just as Gregg had tied him to the bed, explaining in his strange voice that they were destined for each other because Gregg needed a man, a real man, a whole man, to free him of his curse. He’d kissed Howard viciously, repeatedly, only to wail in despair as he was dragged away, because the curse had remained stubbornly stuck. It had sent Howard’s brain in to a spin, renewing fears and feelings he’d hidden for years, and nothing, not even his most pompous, masculine, posturing, not even an acting career in foreign climbs, had been able to banish the thoughts from his mind. 

Finding the dress in his wardrobe, jammed between the cardigans and roll necks, had seemed like just another dream, but when he’d reached out to touch it, it had been real and he hadn’t been able to resist. He hadn’t thought Vince would want to come and find him to welcome him home.

“It is a nice dress,” he agreed after a long pause and sighed, too tired to even tell Vince not to touch him when he felt their shoulders bump. 

“I got it properly dry-cleaned an’ all,” Vince chattered hurriedly. “To get rid of that, you know, fishy smell. It was well expensive but worth it, it’s a genius dress, I couldn’t throw it out. Even after what happened after your party... I am sorry about all that, Howard. I still can’t believe I got fooled like that. I though that girl was a solid ten. Who knew it’d turn out to be Old Gregg.”

They shivered in unison, and somehow, against the odds, that made Howard feel a little better. 

“We should’ve guessed,” Howard mumbled, staring at his toes and wondering when they’d started growing that much hair. “My luck’s not exactly the best, is it? A lovely lady shows interest in Howard Moon, it’s almost guaranteed to be a monster, really. Maybe we’re both cursed. Me and Gregg.”

“Oh, he ain’t cursed no more,” Vince informed him, and Howard was so surprised he actually looked up, his eyes flickering for a moment over Vince’s face. There was no malice there that he could detect, and Vince usually wore his emotions openly enough for even Howard to read them. Right then he just looked earnest. Howard half expected him to offer to make tea, based on that expression; it was what he always used to do, when they were young and Howard was struggling with some inner demon or other. Instead Vince gave a little grin at having been able to get Howard’s attention and carried on with his story. “He got a snog off Saboo at a party last week, turned in to a proper handsome prince, smooth skin, slick moustache, the best ballgown I’ve ever seen in real life! It was wild, Howard! I half expected him to be wearing glass slippers! You should’ve been there.”

“You’ve got it wrong, Vince,” Howard shook his head sadly. “Princes don’t wear ball gowns, that’s princesses. Gregg must have turned in to a princess. You just weren’t paying attention.”

Vince rolled his eyes and huffed. “Yeah, I watched a fish monster in a tutu transform in to Fred Astaire in tulle, and announce himself Prince Greggory. It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, or in the top ten at least! I’m pretty sure I was paying attention.” He gave a little laugh, Howard could feel his shoulders bouncing softly, but it didn’t last long, and Howard watched as Vince tucked his hands between his thighs as he considered his words. “You know, Howard, the whole gender thing... it doesn’t have to be as black and white, or as complicated, as you think it does. If you want to, maybe, experiment, with dresses, or something, I can... help?”

Howard bit back on the anger that threatened to escape, no matter how dearly he wished to yell that he had no intention, that Vince had no evidence, that he was Fine! Because he really didn’t want to scare Vince away. They hadn’t had a good chat in months and he’d thought that upon his return Vince would avoid him, not seek him out and actually offer help. Still, it wasn’t easy to admit it. Howard still had his pride, somehow.

“It’s fine, Vince,” he said, clearing his throat to banish the hoarseness that heralded the threat of tears. “There’s nothing to explore. It was a foolish whim. A mistake that shan’t be repeated. Oh no. I mean, look at me, who am I kidding? I’m just an old berk in a dress.”

“Well, maybe,” Vince shrugged, and then jumped and looked at Howard wildly, obviously fearful that Howard would misunderstand him. “I mean, I don’t think you’re a berk! But who cares, yeah? People say that about me an’ all. There’s always going to be people that can’t deal with Confusers like us. That’s their problem. I think we could really find your look, Howard, if you like!”

Howard felt bad turning down his friend’s help a second time, especially when Vince sounded so excited. Perhaps it could be nice after all, to spend some quality time together, doing something they were both invested in, but the shame and disbelief were still too strong, and he shook his head, ignoring the way Vince’s shoulders slumped sadly next to him.

“I don’t have the body for it Vince,” he admitted, knowing, as he looked down at the dress that wouldn’t even zip up. “I’m not like you.”

Vince slumped further but when Howard snuck another glance he was wearing that intense, thinking face that he usually reserved for pattern drafting unpicking stuck zippers. He wasn’t denying Howard’s words though.

“That dun’t matter,” he said eventually. “Dun’t matter what you look like, Howard, I swear.”

Howard scoffed, anger flaring again, and rounded on Vince, who flinched back at the sudden movement and came close to toppling off the bed entirely. 

“Are you kidding me? Have you gone wrong? Vince Noir thinks it doesn’t matter what a person looks like on the outside?” He paused for breath but Vince didn’t butt in with a cheeky reply and Howard felt the despair and anger build further as the words continued to tumble forth. “Vince Noir, the god of fashion, the toast of Camden, Vince fucking Noir, practically perfect in every physical way, is sitting here, trying to tell me that it doesn’t matter what a person looks like? You really expect me to buy that? You really think it’s what’s inside that counts? You, the big, colourful, beach ball? You really think a man’s character is worth more than the sum of his fashion features?”

He scoffed again, feeling stupid for his anger the longer Vince sat beside him, balanced on the very edge of the bed, looking stricken and not talking back. 

“I take your point,” he said eventually, softly, like he didn’t really want Howard to hear. “And I do, actually. But I was also thinking more along the lines of... accessorise and everything will be okay. That’s all.”

Howard snorted and tried to fold his arms, only to feel the tug of the fabric stretched taut over his shoulders. “Still doing adverts for Jean Claude Jaquettie then?” It was snidely said and he still half expected Vince to react by angrily storming out, but he just gave a little, self deprecating, chuckle and shrugged his shoulders, which somehow hurt more than any tantrum or insult could have. 

“Well, now we’ve both done ad campaigns we ain’t proud of, haven’t we? I think that makes us even. I won’t mention the crab if you don’t mention... that.”

Howard had been unaware that there was anything about Vince’s involvement in the ‘Unicorn Tears’ adverts that he wasn’t proud of, not that he’d seen any of the actual ads, and he was filled with a curiosity that he knew he couldn’t indulge in. Vince was offering an olive branch and he needed to take it.

“Thanks, Vince,” he said quietly and was relieved when Vince shifted his weight back until they were once again pressed shoulder to shoulder. “But I still think it’s a lost cause. I just... I don’t know why I even tried it on.”

The more pressing question was probably why Vince had cleaned the dress and put it in Howard’s wardrobe. It would fit Vince beautifully if he wanted it, but then again, Howard realised, Vince was wearing trousers and a fitted blazer, nothing like the feminine costumes Howard had used to envy so much. 

“Well, maybe it don’t exactly fit,” Vince ceded, “but that doesn’t mean it looks bad. Looks well Marilyn if you ask me. Really hot... actually.”

Vince shifted oddly but Howard was just confused. He knew all of the words but the order, and the way Vince had used them, was a mystery. 

“Marilyn,” he nodded, trying to sound like he understood. “That’s- that means... cool? Nifty? Uh... thanks, Vince.”

Vince huffed a laugh out through his nose, but it wasn’t the malicious sort and Howard felt comforted rather than attacked, in a way that reminded him of their younger days at the zoo, and he looked over at Vince with a tentative smile.

“I mean Marilyn Monroe, Howard,” Vince told him with genuine tenderness. “There’s this well iconic photo of her, yeah, in this white ballet style dress, d’you know it? She’s holding it to her chest and it’s open at the back and she’s looking all nervous, with her curls all mussed, and her feet are bare... You just reminded me of that, that’s all. And in my BTEC Fashion they taught us about it and that the dress for the photo shoot was just the wrong size but how she’d worn it anyway, and made it one of the sexiest looks in history, right? When people could’ve used it against her, to say, oh look, Marilyn Monroe’s put on weight again, she just showed how she was beautiful no matter what, and that she made the rules. I been thinking about her a lot lately actually.”

To Howard’s trained eye, Vince was looking nervous and Howard took his time mulling it all over before answering. Vince was trying to connect with him through fashion metaphors and Howard knew that meant he was really trying.

“Thank you, Vince,” he said slowly. “For all of this. But I’m just not sure. It’s been a confusing time, is all.” 

Vince nodded seriously. “What with Gregg screaming that you’d tricked him and weren’t a real man?”

Vince had never been astute, not by any measure, and his blunt, truthful, statement caught Howard off guard. He nodded before he could think to stop himself but Vince just continued to nod along and the silence stretched out between them until Vince began to shuffle restlessly and Howard’s skin began to prickle with the growing cold of the evening. They needed to say something but there was too much to say, and they had no intelligent way of saying it. They needed more time but this moment had already been so long in coming and the light was fading fast and Howard realised that it was time to step up, whether they knew what they were doing or not.

“I’m not sure I’m a real man, Vince.” It was such a simple statement, so few words, and yet they filled the room until Howard began to worry they would suffocate. “I’m not sure I’m a man at all. Sometimes.”

Vince just nodded again, like it was an entirely natural thing to say, before turning to look up again, that dazzling smile back on his lips and an idea obviously fizzing in the blue of his eyes. 

“Genius, Howard. Now there’s two of us we can be a proper club. We can have badges and a secret handshake. It’ll be genius! We’ll find your look! And your pronouns! And a label if you like, ‘cos you like labels, and they can be dead useful when it comes to figuring out gender stuff. Oh, and Howard, I’ve even got a book on it!”

Vince hadn’t been so excited about doing something with Howard since they won two free passes to a Rolling Stones concert and Howard felt the panic rise again, just a little, until they realised that Vince had met Howard’s show of trust by revealing something equally personal. He owned a book, and was willing to share it with Howard. 

“And what-“ Howard took a deep breath and tried again. “And what label do you use?” 

For a second they worried that Vince would be upset at Howard for not knowing, or for never having asked before, but he just gave another sunshine grin, like he was thrilled just to be asked, though he blushed when he caught Howard looking and ruffled his hair before giving an answer. 

“Well, queer’s quite good. Says what you are, you know, while maintaining a little mystery,” he waggled his eyebrows until Howard couldn’t help but crack a smile and grinned so triumphantly that Howard felt a strange flutter in their chest. “Of course, if I feel like being more specific I go with genderqueer, but then I have to also say I’m bi, which isn’t a bad thing but then it becomes a whole conversation, y’know? But there’s heaps of words, Howard, you’ll love it, I promise.” 

“Promise?” Howard asked with an attempt at a grin of their own, to show they were taking it all in, and taking Vince seriously.

Vince held out his hand. “Promise. An’ if you want to try on something that fits... I’ve still got your Parsley poncho, and your Nanna dress. Or I could alter this dress if you’d like? It’s pretty short but you could wear it like a tunic top, those are well cool right now, and well gender neutral. S’up to you, Howard.”

Howard took a deep breath and slowly, aware of the significance of such an action, put their hand over Vince’s and held it tightly. Warmth approaching euphoria was spreading through them and Vince was staring up in to their face with the same big, blue, hopeful eyes he’d had the day he’d turned up at the Zooniverse and Howard felt something that had been missing for years begin to spark back to life in their heart: hope.


End file.
